Chapter 4 - The Aftermath in Boston
Three days later.
I sat in my spacious, sunlit loft apartment in Beacon Hill, Boston. The apartment had floor-to-ceiling windows, exposed brick, and a grand piano in the corner—an apartment I had paid for entirely in cash two years ago, though my parents still believed I lived in a cramped studio with three roommates.
My phone had been ringing continuously for seventy-two hours.
Thirty-four missed calls from my mother. Eighteen from my father. Forty-two frantic text messages from Nicholas.
“Jenna, please answer!” “The managing partner at my firm called me into his office! They’re putting me on administrative leave because of the Stewart Global fallout!” “Mom is crying! Dad is furious! You’re destroying this family over a seating arrangement!”
I set the phone face-down on my marble kitchen island, taking a slow sip of hot black coffee.
A quiet knock echoed at my front door.
I walked over, opened it, and found Emmett standing in the hallway, holding two paper cups of coffee and a large leather folder. He wore a sharp navy suit without a tie, looking relaxed and strikingly handsome.
“Are you accepting visitors, or are you still hiding from the circus?” he asked with a faint smile.
“The circus is currently blowing up my phone,” I said, stepping aside to let him in. “Come on in.”
Emmett walked into my loft, his eyes scanning the elegant art, the high-end furniture, and the stunning view of the Boston skyline. He raised an eyebrow in genuine appreciation.
“Not bad for a ‘little blog writer,’” he teased softly, setting the coffee cups down.
“I like my privacy,” I smiled, sitting on the sofa. “If my family knew I lived here, my brother would have asked me for a mortgage loan three years ago.”
Emmett sat down in the armchair opposite me, his face turning serious. “How are you holding up, Jenna? Truly.”
I looked out the window at the morning light reflecting off the Charles River. “Honestly? I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. I spent twenty-eight years trying to prove to my parents that I was worth something, only to realize that their validation was worthless to begin with.”
“It takes a lot of strength to realize that,” Emmett said softly. His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse jump slightly. “You’ve spent years making other people sound brilliant, Jenna. It’s time you let the world see who you actually are.”
He opened the leather folder on the coffee table.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“A proposal,” Emmett said. “Stewart Global is launching a new international media and strategic communications division. I want you to head it. Senior Vice President of Global Strategy. Equity shares, full creative control, and a seat on the executive board.”
I stared at the documents in shock. “Emmett... that’s a massive position. I’ve always worked in the shadows.”
“And you were brilliant in the shadows,” Emmett said, leaning forward, his hand resting gently over mine on the sofa cushion. His touch was warm, sending a quiet shiver through my skin. “But you belong at the head of the table, Jenna. Not at Table Nineteen. And certainly not behind a curtain.”
Before I could answer, my phone on the kitchen island began to ring again. The screen flashed with my father’s name.
May you like
Emmett looked at the phone, then back at me. “Do you want me to handle them?”
“No,” I said, standing up with a newfound sense of steel in my spine. “I’m going to handle them myself.”
